Remember, Remember
by Ianua
Summary: Not all was well after the end of the war. Hrry remembers people who gave everything for him, but realises he hasn't lost everyone he loves. Please Review


This is a slightly morbid little fic-let about loss, and memories, inspired by a massive argument and this song. If you've never heard it...GO OUT AND BUY IT! It's the best ten quid you'll ever spend....  
  
PS. Excuse the weird spacing, me and technology don't mix, and the made-up death dates, i don't think they were mentioned in the books, if so, feel free to correct me  
  
And I'd give up forever to touch you  
'Cause I know that you feel me somehow  
You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be  
And I don't want to go home right now

And all I can taste is this moment  
And all I can breathe is your life  
'Cause sooner or later it's over  
I just don't want to miss you tonight

And I don't want the world to see me  
'Cause I don't think that they'd understand  
When everything's made to be broken  
I just want you to know who I am

And you can't fight the tears that ain't coming  
Or the moment of truth in your lies  
When everything feels like the movies  
Yeah you bleed just to know you're alive   
  
From 'Iris' by the Goo Goo Dolls

**Remember, Remember**

It was a quiet evening over Hogsmeade. Too quiet for some. The silence seemed especially close in the graveyard, where a raven-haired figure, not much over sixteen, sat, looking over a row of three gravestones and softly singing to himself. He'd make this quick, he thought, going to the first grave. It had only been recently filled. The earth had yet to be covered with grass, and the marble headstone still gleamed. The inscription in bright gold letters read thus:

Cho Chang  
Who loved this village and  
it's school  
Fell asleep 5th November 2003  
Aged 17 years  
Rest in peace

He sighed. It was fittingly simple, and he knew she wouldn't have liked anything soppy or sentimental. She'd died a hero, or a heroine. Not the first to have taken a curse for him, he thought morosely. 

His sixth year had seen the end of the war against Voldemort. The wizarding world had overcome the dark lord, but with terrible casualties. Most of this part of the graveyard was filled with fresh graves, most of them marked with the same terrible day: November 5th. Most of them he'd never known. He was glad, well, almost. Selfishly glad, he thought to himself. He'd never remember their dying moments. He didn't want to, not with Cho's dying screams still fresh in his mind.

_They could win this one. The castle lay strewn with bodies, but the selfish, warrior-like voice in his head told him it was just tough. Not his problem. He saw them, Voldemort, a dead white face turning toward him, and with all the hate, love and courage of sixteen years, he raised his wand to strike. Too slow. The cold green light and that rushing sound, as he braced himself for death. It never came. Cho, diving in front of him, had taken the curse head-on, and was flung backwards into his lap. Her eyes were clenched shut, braced for impact, and slowly relaxed as death set in. All her warmth ebbed away in his arms. Voldemort was dead and he didn't care._

He laid a white rose in front of the headstone, and mumbled a quiet 'Thanks'. He gulped, fighting hard against the lump in his throat. He hadn't cried yet, and he didn't want to cry in front of her. He quickly moved on to the next grave. This one was simpler, and older, made of rough-cut stone. Thin grass had begun to cover it's surface, but rain and the years had not yet begun to eat away at the carving of a simple paw-print and these words:

Padfoot  
A good friend and a brave man  
Died 25th May 2003  
RIP   
  
At this grave, he laid a dog rose, also white. "Best I could find" he apologised, laying it down .The next grave was larger, and ivy had begun to creep over it's inscription.   
  
Lily and James Potter  
Together Forever  
Died 16th June 1988  
RIP

He'd never found out what flowers his mother liked, so he brought her namesake. Stargazer lilies. Not pale and stinking of death, but a lively, smiling orange, much more like the happy woman he had seen in the few photos he possessed. For his dad, simple white carnations, he guessed he wouldn't want anything girly or fancy. At this grave, there was a bench, where you could sit and look over the graveyard, and up to the hills beyond. 

It was only then that he felt two people sit, one flopping down either side of him. He looked up. Ron and Hermionie half-smiled at him.

"Thought we'd find you here" Ron said

"You've been gone for ages" Hermionie chipped in

"Mm..."

"Feeling any better?"

Hermionie reached over to smack Ron round the back for his tactlessness, but Harry stopped her. "Doesn't matter, 'mionie, I'm okay."

"But, I mean, Cho, and..."

"It's okay...." Harry knew he was about to say something extremely sentimental, the words stuck in his throat for a minute "I've still got you two" He smiled.

Sighing, Hermionie squeezed his hand. "Know what?"  
  
"What?"

"I think she'll miss you, as much as you miss her"

"But it was my fault, that she died, I mean. If I hadn't have been there, Voldemort wouldn't have-"

"Don't be a prat, Harry! Look mate, she must have thought a lot of you, and blaming yourself is just a load of cr-"

"A load of rubbish" Hermionie interrupted "She must have really loved you, Harry, Her, and your mum, they wouldn't have wanted you to waste the life they saved by blaming yourself. I know you miss them, but they'd want you to enjoy life, not spend it regretting everything..."

Harry looked down, like a child being told off "Okay.."

"Don't worry..." she said, reaching forward to pull him into a tight hug.

Ron, who always felt a bit awkward at times like this, pretended to be interested in the grave of Socrates Bellows III.

After a while, he got fed up "I'm HUNGRY! Lets go home!"

Rolling her eyes, Hermionie got up, and Harry followed. The tree friend walked off out of the graveyard gate, and Harry felt a strange pang of gratefulness toward them, and knew that he would give his life, for either of them. Strangely enough, he wasn't quite sentimental enough to say.

The End


End file.
